sweet//cameron dallas

floor 4

I watch as the nurse inspects his jaw, making "mhm" sounds as she examines him. He would wince every now and then from the great amount of pain he was feeling.
"On a scale from one to ten, how much does you're jaw hurt, honey." She asks.
"Like maybe a seven. Ah gosh, it really hurts." He winces, flinching from her touch.
"Alright. Here's an ice pack. I'll go get the doctor."
"Darling, do you mind sitting in the waiting room? This might take quite a while." She says, pointing to the door. I smile and nod, standing up from the laminated hospital chair.
"Yeah. No problem." I stop at the door and wave goodbye.
"See you soon." I tell him.
"Hopefully." He chuckles. I step out of the room and take a seat in the waiting room, my foot impatiently tapping the tile.
I was bored out of my mind.
I watch as each parent rushes there kid in through the hospital doors, sitting the, on the tall counter and quickly talking to the nurse. The kid would either be having a major melt down, or be completely calm. There wasn't any in between. I watch as the doors open again, this time a boy in a sweatshirt and sweatpants walks in. His hair was longish, very messy. His eyes were tired, and he walked as if he had been here a million times. Of course, I knew who it was.
It was Nash.
"Nash? What are you doing here?" I ask, following him to a vending machine. He flattens out his dollar and slides it through the slot, pressing A4 on the panel. A bag of skittles drops, and he picks it up. He turns around to face me and smiles.
"Hello. Lovely seeing you here, isn't it?" He smirks. He walks past me and takes a seat in one of the chairs that were pressed against the wall. I sit down next to him.
"So.." He chews on his skittle for a second.
"What are you doing here? I assume it has something to do with my friend Cameron?"
"Yes. How did you know?"
"First off; you're always with him. Second; he texted me saying "I hate girls." He chuckles.
"Is he hurt? Did you punch him or something? Because damn, does that boy deserve it."
"No..no. He punched Shawn for sitting in his car with me."
"He punched Mendes, huh?" Nash laughs, and looks down at his ripped skinny jeans.
"Those two are like...are like...I don't know. They just don't get along, let's put it that way."
"Yes I've heard." I look around for a minute and then finally speak up.
"Why are you here?"
"That's a fantastic question, my dear. Follow me." He says, standing up from the chair. I follow him into the elevator, watching him press the '4' button.
"Where are we g-"
"My grandmother is dying. And I need to know that you will be here to help me through this loss when she is gone. Can you manage?" He asks, as we stop at a door. There were many cards and ribbons taped to it.
"I can. I promise." I nod slowly, and he grabs my hand, pulling me in. My eyes flicker at the sight. An old woman lies in a white bed, her mouth slightly open and her eyes shut. The news was quietly playing in the background, and there were tubes in her nose.
"Nash..I...i-"
"You promised." He whispers. He sits in the chair next to her, and grabs her hand. Her eyes slowly open, and her mouth curves into a smile once he sees him. She presses her hands into his face, feeling the structure of his jaw and cheeks.
"Nash. I'm glad you're here." She beams.
"I'm glad I'm here too." He looks at me and motions me over.
"Meema, this is Lily. She is a good friend." She smiles at me and I eve, placing my hand on the back of his chair. She grabs my hand, an the cold touch send shivers down my spine.
"Nash I one of the sweetest boys you'll ever meet. Keep him close, dear." She smiles. Nash's cheeks turn red.
"Tell her the story." He insists, clearing his throat.
"John." She says, the name rolling off her tongue.
"When I was a freshman, I found myself joining the cheer team. It was our first game, and I could barely remember our routine due to number 14, John Grier. He had talked to me a couple times, but he would ask me for answers to the homework and other silly things like that. No real conversation. But after the game, everyone went to Mochinos, a diner only three miles away from school. I was sat next him, and he didn't say one word to me the whole night. I was so embarrassed I walked out. I remember stepping out of the diner and feeling like an idiot. But I heard the door behind me open, and a touch on my hand. I turned around, and it was him. John. He had told me that he was waiting to talk to me all night, but he was forced to talk about the game. He said although he was a senior, and I was a freshman, he liked me. An he asked me on a date. And that's how I met Nash's grandfather." She says, cleaning her throat.
"That was so sweet, Mrs. Grier." I say, placing my had on top of hers.
"Nash? May I have a drink of water. I'm parched." She says, touching her throat. He nods and grabs a cup off the dresser, putting it under the sink faucet.
"Remember what I said. Take care of him." She whispers, and shuts her eyes. Nash comes back with the cup of water, placing it on her nightstand. He places a hand on my back, and looks at her.
"That means it's time to go. Come on." He says, as I follow him out the door. We ride the elevator backdown, and step outside. I shiver from the cold. He takes off his football jersey and drapes it on my shoulders.
"Thank you." I tell him, placing my hands over my mouth to keep them warm. A bus pulls up in front of us, and Nash steps on.
"You coming?" He asks.
"Huh? Don't you drive?"
"No. See, that is why we are quite similar, love. We both don't drive. And we both don't drive for the same reason, I assume."
"Hm? And why is that?" I follow him through the aisle, and I take a seat next to the window, and he takes a seat to my right.
"Because we have both failed are driving tests on purpose. Because we are too scared to admit that we are too scared to grow up and become adults." He chuckles. Raindrops start to bounce on the glass, causing me to stare.
"Your words are sweet." I laugh.
"You are lovely." He says, a smile forming on his lips. We stare at each other for a good 30 seconds.
"She told me that when you put on someone else's glasses.." He starts, reaching into his backpack and pulling out a crooked pair of glasses. The frames were metal, and they looked so old school. Like my grandpa would wear these.
"You see what they see. Now, put on my glasses. Tell me what I see." He chuckles, handing them to me. I put them on, blinking a couple times. But I got used to it. I got used to the stormy weather and the Hurricanes. The pouring rain was making my head hurt. I take them off and look at him.
"Well?"
"What's going on?" I whisper to him. His smiles turns into a frown.
"It's bad." He mumbles.
"Thunder storms. Why?"
"Because of everything going on. I'm a fucking mess, lily."
"Well maybe we just need to clean you up." I laugh, resting my head on his shoulder.
"Wouldn't that be nice? If it was that easy to fix me?" He says. I nod, closing my eyes.
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"Hey. Lily. Wake up, love. Cmon now." He mumbles to me. I open my eyes and sit up from his shoulder. We were near my house.
"Your stop." He says, standing up so I could pass through. I didn't want to leave him. I had this gut feeling about him, like he would do something stupid. I stand up and hug him, his breaths soft on my neck.
"Fix yourself, if I can't, Nash." I whisper to him. He pulls apart and kisses my forehead. I walk off the bus, watching his face in the window leak with sadness. I walk up to the front steps, and into the house. But the rainstorms are still in my mind. And so are the Hurricanes.